Joker's Barber n' Parlor
by RetroRose96
Summary: What do you call a Joker that walks into a barber shop? I don't know, you tell me! Hahaha sorry, bad joke. This is about the Joker getting his haircut! Enjoy! (More chapters coming soon!)


Hello! I have finally and successfully made a batman story of my own! This is a story that comes from my own barbering skills so I hope you enjoy the realistic-ness (that's not even a real word) of my story! Happy reading and please review!

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A pale, masculine hand with soiled fingernails reaches out, grabbing a clump of oily hair. His fingertips slide down, brushing away only a few strands from his coal-stained eye sockets. His brow rose for a moment, thinking in thought toward each building passing by. His presence is silent as he positions his posture, exuding power and complete control over the whole vehicle. This proves so, as three passengers accompany him, all wearing hollow masks resembling the drivers own painted face. Clowns. The one sitting in the front passenger seat tightly grips his palm against the plastic material of his rifle gun. He breathes in sharply and quickly as his lips purse in preparation to speak,

"Hey Joker... Where we goin'?" He asks, turning his head slightly, then more so as to gather sight of his boss driving. He visually notices the man playing with his hair,

"_I_ will be going to the barber shop! This mop needs a chop." The joker explains, lifting his one hand, grabbing a strand of hair for a moment, then letting it drop down in front of his eyes again.

"And you: Claude, Bobby, and Joe are gonna take a nice break. How's that sound?"

"Sure." One says.

"Sounds good to me." The three men take off their masks and the vehicle stops at a street corner. They gather as a group outside.

"And If you go anywhere _funny,_ well, you know, I'll kill ya." The Joker lifts up his arm, points at one of them and aims...

"BANG! BANG! BANG!" At each one speedily. He lusts in amazement over their fear-stricken faces. Holding up his arm, he waves his gun-hand in tomfoolery. The three henchmen look down and shake their heads in disbelief and worry. The Joker belts out a breathy shrill laugh, spooking his henchmen to think twice before ditching.

He immediately shrugs them off as his heels pivot around in motion. The men walk away, and their boss eyes one particular building up ahead. He looks up to the writings on the window.

`Barber & Parlor'

'since 1939'

He eyes the door and grips for the handle, swinging it wide open with one swift motion. His other gloved hand twiddles a knife inside of his pocket. Taking one step inside…

He stops. He looks around.

The decor is quite lovely in taste. The barber chairs are a lovely leather brown. The mirror – tall, clear, and wide. Cedar-wood from the counter tops, to the waiting chairs. Not a single person waiting or having their hair cut. No customers in such an eloquent shoppe.

He spots a wooden clock above him, ticking and toking in silence.

8:43AM.

"Hello." He asks, still eyeing he whole area. His feet guide him to the front desk.

"Hello!" Another man's voice calls out to him from a hidden hallway. The man appears in sight. His height tall and lanky, sporting a full beard as he hurriedly ties around his cape.

"Welcome to Barber & Parlor! I can cut your hair right now. Follow me."

"Okay." He replies.

"First chair." The Barber points in direction, going further away to gather some things. The joker sits himself down at the Barbers station. His hands feel coldness from the steel edges of the chair, but the rest that he sat on is cushioned genuine leather. The Joker couldn't help but think back to the memory of his young childhood, sitting in a barber chair just like this one. The Joker hears his barber's leather shoes against the wooden floor, coming back to his station. He grabs a white Gibson towel from the top ledge of his station, then he walks behind and places it around the Joker's neck. His hands feel very cold to the Joker's neck, but no shaking or restless moving presented, as the joker would expect.

"So. what are we looking for?" The Barber asks him.

"I'm looking for a haircut." Joker cocks a brow.

"Hahaha, yeah. But I mean, what would you like?" He smiled, looking through the mirror while feeling his hair.

"I'm thinking of a certain type of hairstyle. Slick back like I used to have it. And green. As you can see, it's really unkempt."

"Yeah, looks like you haven't got a cut in a while. I can fix that." He up to takes a few steps to his station counter. Shuffling around in his tools… he hovers over each one, wondering of which cutting to use. He turns to look at the Joker in all curiousness,

"Do you prefer scissors or clipper?"

"Scissors. I like it short on the sides, like a clipper, but longer on top." He replies with a tilt of his head to the side and a tugging smirk on the right. He can't help but feel so amused by the obliviousness of this barber. He has no clue who he is.

"OK, sounds good. So, right now i'll cut, then color. You got lots to come off first." He grabs his pair of scissors on the counter top from under the mirror and a comb. He goes behind him once again and starts cutting the back of his hair. Snipping sounds resound along with the shuffling of his apron.

"Squared off in the back?"

"Yes." A few more minutes go by, and he begins to clip the Joker's top head of hair clipped together in one section as a separation guide... Using pink clips. How ironic.

"So green, huh? Is that your favorite color?"

"Well, not really… But I like my hair Green. There's a good reason why I like it Green,"

"I have a fetish for puke."

"What?!" He gapes his mouth with a shocked smile, cutting the top now.

"Yes, ever since I was a child. My mother was so _disgusted_ with me, all because I had slit my father's throat. So she puked _all_ over the kitchen floor- seeing that her husband was dead... And so I looked at her... and I saw that her puke was so much, and so... green. It satisfied me, knowing that I finally proved to my mother what I could do to help her,"

"Umm…" the barber slows down his cutting, expecting him to joke or lie. The Joker watches him silently, creating a daze.

"Just kidding!" He bellows in laughter. The barber stares at him, not sure what to believe. He takes out his trimmer and starts trimming his neck. The Joker can feel his hands shaking more and more violently as he spots the realization on the Barbers stricken face of who he really is.

"You're the Joker, aren't you."


End file.
